


Anagnorisis

by StarshipEnterprise



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), M/M, Rutting, bucky is not very smooth, but it works on Steve anyway, handjobs, recovering bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipEnterprise/pseuds/StarshipEnterprise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Buck...what're you doing?"</p>
<p>"Enjoying the view."</p>
<p>The first time Bucky remembers what he and Steve used to be to each other, he decides to show instead of tell.  Recovering!Bucky fic, takes place during Civil War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anagnorisis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otabeari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otabeari/gifts).



It's a seedy motel off Route 87 for them that night. Sam, Clint, and the rest of the team are scattered through separate rooms, and Steve hates to think of it as hiding out, but that's what it's come to. They've seen firsthand that Stark has ears and eyes everywhere, and after what happened earlier with Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes...they can't risk being found. Steve's fault. His own damn fault.

Bucky asking Steve, almost hesitantly, if they could hole up in the same motel room certainly helped make up for it. It shouldn't give Steve the sort of relief that it does; Sam and Scott are sharing, so are Wanda and Clint. And Steve is clearly the only one in the group that Bucky trusts even the smallest bit. But it still makes the whole laying-low thing worth it when Steve steps out of the bathroom in a towel, most of the grime from the day's battle scrubbed away, and sees his best friend sitting back on one of the beds, looking more relaxed than Steve's seen him in literal decades.

He lingers in the doorway, taking in the sight of Bucky in an undershirt and jeans, but it's the book he's holding that makes him smile.

"The Hobbit, huh?" He asks tentatively, moving to his duffel bag to see if he grabbed any suitable clothes in his rush out the door that morning.

"I read this to you," Bucky answers in that same factual voice he uses whenever he informs Steve of something new he's remembered. It's impressive, how many memories he's recovered, though he's made it clear that he hasn't yet gotten back the emotions that go with them. And he might not, Steve reminds himself for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, you did, when I had pneumonia in '39," he says fondly. He's got his back to Bucky, fishing a tee-shirt and sweatpants out of his bag, but he hears a dull thud like the book being closed. "Because it was about a little guy, goin' on some big adventure...there's movies out now, but they're not as good as the funny voices you used to do."

A perplexed silence follows, and Steve barely restrains himself from sighing. It was so easy when they were on the battlefield together, they'd gotten that synergy back almost instantly, but this...they might never get this aspect of their relationship right again. What's worse, Bucky might not even get this part of _himself_ again, the part that knows how to find peace without a mission, without staring down the barrel of a gun at a target.

And he wants to, that much is obvious. He'd somehow obtained a copy of a book he once read to Steve, most likely in an attempt to understand what meaning it held with them. Probably been carrying it around in that damn backpack this whole time.

Steve doesn't think twice about changing in front of Bucky, lost in thought as he drops the towel and pulls on briefs. He's stepping into the sweatpants when he hears Bucky shift on the bed behind him, and looks over his shoulder to see what he's doing.

Bucky meets his eyes, mouth quirked in an expression Steve can't quiet place, and his metal hand is down the front of his jeans. Steve freezes with his pants halfway up his thighs.

"Buck...what're you doing?" He asks in what he hopes is a casual tone.

"Enjoying the view," Bucky answers easily. His right arm is folded under his head, propped up slightly against the headboard, and he looks so much like cavalier, self-confident, quick-to-smile _Bucky_ that it makes Steve's head spin. His hand is moving lazily in his jeans, and it takes monumental self control for Steve snap his gaze back to Bucky's face.

"You're...I don't..." The words get stuck in Steve's mouth. His thoughts have wandered into dangerous territory, like how the smooth metal must feel around his cock. Bucky's mouth turns up in a full-out smirk, though there's hesitation in his eyes.

He slowly sits up on his knees and moves down the bed, hand languidly working over his cock the entire time, chin jutted out almost in a challenge. At some point his jeans must have been unbuttoned because they're slung low on his hips, showing a strip of his underwear that Steve has to tear his eyes away from, staring bewildered at Bucky. Instead of offering an explanation, he grabs the waistband of Steve's sweatpants, still around his thighs, and uses it to tug him to the end of the bed. Stumbling slightly, Steve catches himself on Bucky's mismatched shoulders, the metal of his left pleasantly warm and almost humming under his palm, even smoother than he thought.

"What're you doing?" He asks again, quietly because their faces are inches apart now. He has a theory, but...he can't hope, he can't dare to let himself hope. Bucky's breathing is shaky, washing warm over Steve's lips.

"I remembered," he whispers. Hope blossoms in Steve's chest and he promptly pushes it down. Bucky leans forward and kisses the corner of Steve's mouth, quick and dry, and it rears up again, bright and hot. Heart pounding, Steve reaches up and delicately frames Bucky's face in his hands, brushing back his hair.

"You remember this?" He can't keep the wistfulness out of his voice. Bucky nods and closes his eyes, his stubble catching on Steve's palm when he turns his head into the touch.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky asks softly, eyes opening to meet Steve's again. He's still smiling, but his voice is small, almost scared. "Coulda been havin' fun this whole time." Steve makes a quiet, sad sound in the back of his throat, tipping his head forward until their foreheads touch.

"Been a bit preoccupied keeping us alive," he mutters, smiling a little and returning the kiss to the edge of Bucky's lips. But that's not the whole truth. "Wasn't sure if you wanted to know...you remember all of it?"

"If it started on your seventeenth birthday, yeah."

"Getting drunk off that God-awful liquor you snagged from your dad, watching fireworks on the fire escape?"

"That's the one."

Steve smiles brightly, feeling as light as he did that night in July. Before he's done reeling from how good it feels to be close to Bucky again, Bucky's hooking his right arm over Steve's neck and pressing their bodies flush together, meeting his lips in the same movement. Between them, his metal arm slips out of his jeans to press against the small of Steve's back, holding him tighter. It's almost hot against his skin, from Bucky's cock or from the mechanisms inside the arm, Steve doesn't know. He's more concerned with the fact that it's buzzing almost imperceptibly, making a breathless whimper escape his lips.

Bucky kisses him the exact same way he used to: hard and demanding at first, almost impatient, but as soon as Steve pushes back even the slightest bit, he yields so beautifully. Steve's dizzy with the memories the sensation is bringing back, or maybe that's from his cock hardening faster than it ever has in his life. Bucky moans against his mouth and Steve knows he can feel it, both their hips rolling forward at the same time. It makes Steve see stars, but he forces his eyes open to look at Bucky, to see the way his mouth falls open and eyes widen in what might be surprise. For one painful moment, Steve wonders when Bucky was last touched in a way that made him feel _good_.

Bucky must see the concern in his eyes, because he silently shakes his head and pulls him in for another insistent kiss, leaving no room for questions. He nips roughly at Steve's bottom lip and Steve responds by forcing his tongue into Bucky's mouth, eliciting a sigh. Bucky predictably goes a bit more pliant against him, and Steve takes the opportunity to slowly lower them back onto the bed, crawling up over Bucky and settling between his bent legs. Laying over him, he can feel the rapid rise and fall of Bucky's chest with each breath, the way he clings almost desperately, and Steve moves one of his hands from Bucky's face to rub soothingly at his hip.

"Do you remember that I love you?" He breathes against his lips, and Bucky nods, trembling ever so slightly beneath him. Steve's thumb brushes over his jaw, catching on the stubble there.

"Still?" Bucky whispers, small and scared. The word is spoken so softly that Steve almost doesn't hear. He can understand why Bucky might be uncertain; they've both changed monumentally since they last spoke the words to each other.

"To the end of the line," he confirms, smiling and nuzzling his nose against Bucky's cheek.

"Sap," Bucky mutters, but he relaxes perceptibly, and there's a smile in his voice.

They lose what little clothes they have on in a somewhat clumsy scramble, but both of them are too eager to keep kissing to take off Bucky's undershirt. Steve's forgotten it's even there.

It isn't until a few minutes later, when they're rolling their hips in rhythm with each other and kissing breathlessly, that Bucky pants, "Love you too, y'know. Still," before he's pressing his head back against the pillow in the way he always does when he's about to come. It hasn't been that long, and Steve still has a way to go before he gets close, but Bucky's been denied pleasure for God knows how many years.

Steve pulls back slightly and forces his heavy-lidded eyes to focus on Bucky's face, on the way his brow furrows and his eyes squeeze shut, his wet lips parted. His head tips against Steve's hand as his pleasure visibly builds, and the words "touch starved" suddenly come to mind, making Steve press closer. When Bucky finally tips over the edge, he's clinging and gasping shakily, and Steve clings right back, rocking against him until he stops trembling with aftershocks.

Only then do Bucky's eyes open, his gaze unfocused and mouth still open in pleasure or shock. Maybe both.

"Steve," he breaths. It's the first time he's said his name since 1945.

That's what finally breaks through the shock of what they're doing, what they've done. No longer swamped by the disbelief that Bucky remembers what they used to be, the sheer gratitude and overwhelming relief crashes down on Steve. Both his arms move under Bucky, around him, holding him up off the mattress slightly as he buries his face against his neck in a crushing hug. Bucky's legs wrap around Steve's waist, the bulk of him pressed tight against his chest.

They stay like that for longer than most would have the strength to, Bucky's breath warm against Steve's hair, damp from the shower. Steve is still hard between them, but getting off is the furthest thing from his mind until he feels the warm, smooth metal of Bucky's hand around his cock.

He gasps softly, loosening his grip on Bucky to stabilize himself on the mattress, hips already rocking. The slight vibration of Bucky's hand that he'd barely noticed earlier seems amplified around his sensitive cock, slick with precum.

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he breathes shakily, his forehead dropping onto Bucky's shoulder as his hips piston.

"We can do that later," Bucky offers, and Steve can _hear_ the smirk in his voice, the smartass. He almost smacks his shoulder, but then warm lips are kissing his temple tenderly, and he decides against it.

He makes a mess across Bucky's undershirt when he comes, but he's honestly just glad to not have it between them when Bucky tugs it off and throws it on the floor. Spent and loose-limbed, Steve's all too eager to curl up against Bucky's chest, still catching his breath. Bucky's arms wrap around his shoulders and Steve's go around his middle, and they're silent for a long while.

"You weren't even going to tell me you remembered that we used to fuck before you stuck your hand down your pants in front of me?" Steve realizes aloud sometime later. He lifts his head to look at Bucky, a bemused expression on his face. "I thought you had a screw loose, Buck."

Bucky grins crookedly and shrugs with one shoulder.

"I wanted to get right to the point."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jordyn, the Steef to my Winter Boo Bear, this is for her! Xx


End file.
